


Once Burned

by hollybennett123



Series: Tipping Point [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal, Bad Decisions, Barebacking, Clothed Sex, D/s undertones, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise, Rimming, Rough Sex, So Much More Than Just the Tip, Tenderness, Utter Filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: David lets out a ragged breath, taken aback and unsure how to respond. Michael’s voice in his ear, saying what they’ve both skirted around for so long — it makes him feel overheated and full of adrenaline, pulse racing. There’s only the sound of Michael’s breathing for a moment, rustling clothing like he’s shifting on the bed.“I want you to come back here,” Michael says. It’s an order and a heartfelt plea and impossibly fond all at once. “So I can finish what I started.”





	Once Burned

**Author's Note:**

> Just the Tip 2: Can I Hear a Wahoo. Sure, the Just the Tip fic was _fun_, but was it satisfying? No! I couldn't relax until I'd poured a huge amount of feral energy into resolving things with this, a fic that got wildly out of control. I'd recommend you go and read part one of the series, [Borderlines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108149), before this one.
> 
> To everyone who encouraged me to do this, you know who you are: ILU ♥

Later that night, David finds he can’t sleep, though he isn’t particularly surprised that’s the case. He keeps the TV on for a bit, not really watching it. A poor distraction from the constant itch under his skin, the jittery feeling he can’t get rid of even now, a couple of hours after leaving Michael’s room.

When his phone buzzes, he almost considers ignoring it. Can’t really be bothered to deal with it and doubts it’s all that important. It buzzes again, and he picks it up, surprised to see Michael’s name. Feels a flutter of nervousness as he opens up the messages._  
_

_Can’t sleep_

_You still awake?_

David dithers over his answer for a moment, not entirely sure where this is going. He's anxious Michael might finally want to talk about things, and God, he’s not _ready_ for that. It’s absolutely fine, what they have; whatever it is, wherever that tangled-up line sits now, it’s all fine. Except: he’s sitting alone in his hotel room, flustered just from Michael messaging him, and —

_Yeah_ David texts back before he can change his mind. Michael will surely know he’s opened the messages anyway. He can’t really ignore them at this point.

_MichaelS is typing..._ pops up on his phone, and David waits it out. Sees it disappear again, then reappear, back and forth and still nothing, only making the anticipation and slightly queasy feeling in his stomach worse.

The sudden harsh vibration in his hand surprises him enough that he almost drops his phone, Michael’s name coming up on screen as calling him now instead.

“Fuck,” David mutters under his breath. “_Fuck,_” and he takes a deep breath before swiping to answer it. “Hi.”

Michael lets out a barely audible sigh. Surprised, maybe. Relieved David picked up.

“I didn’t disturb you, did I?” Michael says. “Sorry, I know it’s late.”

“No,” David says, fingers worrying at the edge of his t-shirt, twisting into the fabric. “S’fine.”

“Look,” Michael says, voice soft. Strained, almost apologetic. “Just — hang up on me, if you want to. If you don’t like what I’m about to say. Just put the phone down, we can pretend it never happened. But I’m going out of my _mind_ here, after what we just did. Can’t stop thinking about you. Fucking you proper, like — Christ, you don’t even know how badly I want it. Stupid, really, isn’t it. Shit.”

David lets out a ragged breath, taken aback and unsure how to respond. Michael’s voice in his ear, saying what they’ve both skirted around for so long — it makes him feel overheated and full of adrenaline, pulse racing. There’s only the sound of Michael’s breathing for a moment, rustling clothing like he’s shifting on the bed.

“I want you to come back here,” Michael says. It’s an order and a heartfelt plea and impossibly fond all at once. “So I can finish what I started.”

“Yeah,” David breathes. “Yeah, God — no, I’ll be there. Two minutes?”

“Whenever you want,” Michael says. “But — soon?”

David hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, needing a moment just to calm his breathing. Goes into the bathroom to take a piss and wash his hands, frets and brushes his teeth again for the second time in an hour. Catches sight of himself in the mirror and runs his fingers through his disastrous hair, barely dried after showering in Michael’s room.

He frets some more about what he’s wearing — standing barefoot in an old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms — before deciding he’s being an idiot, the hotel is quiet and Michael’s only around the corner. Leaves before he can talk himself out of doing the one thing he wants to do more than anything else in the world right now.

Michael’s at the door moments after David knocks on it, smiling warmly as he lets David in. He’s more nervous than David’s ever seen him, not obvious at first glance but there if you’re looking.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Michael says, pressing close, his hands coming to rest on David’s hips.

The corner of his mouth quirks upward again, aiming at nonchalance, but there’s such tangible relief in the way he looks at David that David’s struck all of a sudden by just how much of a braver man Michael is than he ever could be himself.

Even now, David doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to say, so he takes Michael’s face between his hands instead and kisses him like he means it. Michael makes a soft, surprised little sound as he pulls David against him and kisses back, hungry and desperate.

“Christ,” Michael murmurs against David’s mouth. He looks and sounds and _feels_ like he’s holding everything back, urgent and restrained. David wants so badly to find out what happens when he isn’t holding back anymore. “I meant what I said,” Michael says gruffly, one hand in David’s hair now while they kiss. “About fucking you.”

He tugs at David’s hair a bit, making David gasp. Knowing full well what it does to him, he does it again; hums in satisfaction when David moans out loud, knees buckling for a moment before he steadies himself.

“I want it,” David says in a rush. “I want you to. Fuck.”

He presses his filling cock against Michael’s thigh; wants him to know just how desperately he needs this, in ways he can’t even verbalise. Michael makes a rough sound low in his throat, rolling their hips together, his erection hot and hard and mouthwateringly obvious where it tents his thin pyjama pants.

David breaks their kiss with every intention of dropping to his knees right where they are. Wants to pull Michael’s cock out and suck him until he’s choking on it; until he hasn’t room for a thought in his head except the way Michael’s pressing into the back of his throat, filling him up and telling him how good he is.

Michael digs his fingers into David’s waist, though. Presses their mouths together and goes down with him instead. He seizes the opportunity to push David back onto the soft cream carpet, laying him out to fit himself between David's thighs instead.

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” Michael says, all tight-wound tension.

He pins one of David’s wrists down with one hand and gives him a searching look. Strokes the fingers of the other so, so gently down the column of David’s throat, trailing over his t-shirt to finally cup at the swell of his cock.

“Fuck me,” David gasps, hips bucking, utterly submissive under Michael’s hands. “Please. Michael, fuck, _please_.”

“Gorgeous,” Michael says. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He squeezes David’s cock, making him groan. Rubs the pad of his thumb over the dark patch forming where David’s cockhead pushes against the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, leaking and making an embarrassingly sticky mess of himself already. “Christ,” Michael chokes out, “do you have any idea what it does to me, seeing you like this? You always get so fucking wet for me, sweetheart. Makes me absolutely mad for you.”

David nods in agreement. Feels distantly like he should be embarrassed by how needy he surely looks, but more than anything just eager for Michael to keep going with whatever he has in store for him.

Michael takes a moment just to look at him, gaze softening. Crawls over him again to kiss him, luxurious and slow until David’s whimpering at the all-consuming feeling of it combined with Michael’s weight pressing against his cock.

“Sweetheart,” Michael says, a little uptick at the end like it’s a question. David doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the way it makes him feel when Michael calls him that. “I still don’t have any condoms. If we do this — well. Like earlier, I’m okay with it, but you have to be too. Plenty we can do without them, if you’re not?”

David has to close his eyes for a moment, centring his thoughts. Opens them again, and the dark, all-encompassing _want_ in Michael’s expression is like electricity in David’s veins, a lick of heat and a flare of sensation all over.

“I want it,” David says. “I’m — always careful.” _Before now_, he thinks. _Fucking hell._ “I’m alright with it, s’long as you are.”

“Well, thank fuck,” Michael says, a breath of laughter, and David can’t help but laugh along with him.

Michael strokes one hand up over the bare skin of David’s stomach beneath his t-shirt, making him shiver. Strokes his thumb tenderly over David’s cheek. David takes him by the wrist; presses a kiss there, glancing meaningfully up at him. Puts his trust in him, whatever comes next.

Michael kisses him, hard, then eases back into something more tender. Presses his mouth to David’s cheekbone and then to his ear.

“Turn over,” he says, his voice like gravel.

David’s whole body goes to liquid. Michael barely finishes getting the words out before David’s moving to comply; he’s on his hands and knees without even thinking, and Michael wastes no time in tugging his pyjama pants down to his knees, as much undressing as they’ll need.

“Has anyone ever eaten you out before?” Michael says, running his hand along David’s spine, stroking over his arse. “I’m told I’m _very_ good with my tongue.”

“Christ,” David grits out, so turned on he can barely think straight. “Not like this.”

“You’ll like it,” Michael says. “I promise.”

_Like it_ is the understatement of the fucking century; David can barely hold himself upright, every part of him wanting to sink to the floor with how mind-meltingly good it feels. He can’t help but whimper at the feeling of Michael coaxing his tongue inside him, unrestrained and enthusiastic about it.

“Oh my _god_,” Michael groans, close enough still that the vibrations play across David’s skin. “The fucking sounds you make.”

If it was good before, it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Michael carefully inserting a spit-wet finger inside and licking around the rim of him. David’s panting now, feels like he’s floating.

Michael turns his wrist and curves his finger downward, searching. David gasps aloud at the sudden pulse of pleasure, cock jerking and drooling down onto the carpet. Chuckling softly to himself, Michael withdraws. There’s the sound of rustling clothing and then he’s haphazardly shoving his t-shirt beneath David’s hips.

“What a mess,” Michael says, somehow making it sound like praise. He leans over David to press a kiss to his shoulder. “You already got come on one of my t-shirts tonight. Just so you’re aware, I intend to make you come all over this one, too.”

“Good to know,” David says tightly, and Michael laughs again.

“Back in a second,” Michael says, getting to his feet and disappearing off somewhere behind him. He’s back moments later, accompanied by the click of a lube cap being opened. “Unless you tell me otherwise,” he says breathlessly, two slick fingers circling David’s hole, “I’m going to make this part quick.”

Michael slips both fingers inside up to the middle knuckle; waits a moment and shoves them in to the hilt, making David cry out. It won’t take long, David knows; Michael’s mouth on him earlier, his fingers now. The fact he’s already been opened up by him once tonight, the memory of it making him burn up, incendiary.

“I’ve wanted this for months,” Michael says. Desperate-sounding, rough-edged like it’s a secret spilled. _Months_ far precedes anything they’ve done together. David bites down on a groan, pressing back into Michael’s fingers. “Do you know,” Michael goes on, “how many times I’ve stroked myself off imagining I’m fucking you? Coming in you?” It’s probably rhetorical, but David shakes his head anyway. “Neither do I,” Michael says. He presses his thumb behind David’s balls, massaging there until he’s whining, cock pulsing a glut of precome onto the floor. “I lost _count_.”

Michael gets a third finger inside him, fingerfucking him roughly - a means to an end now, less focused on David’s pleasure and more focused on getting his cock inside him as quickly as possible. David feels lightheaded at the thought of it.

“Please,” David says, losing track of how many times he’s been reduced to begging already tonight. All he knows is how much he needs to be stuffed full of Michael’s cock, aching for it. “Fuck me. Michael, please.” And then, in case it helps, “I’ll make it so good for you, I swear.” He doesn’t really know how he plans on doing so, merely that he wants to.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters, carefully slipping his fingers free. David glances back, sees him hurriedly pulling down his own pyjama bottoms. Somehow, the fact they haven’t bothered undressing entirely makes it feel even filthier.

Michael fills his cupped palm with copious amounts of lube, stroking it over his cock with a grunt of relief. He wipes his hands dry then takes David by the hips, lining his cock up.

David ducks his head, knees weak at the thought of Michael getting inside him bare. Michael pushes inside slowly, his breathing harsh and his hands burning hot on David’s bare hips. He works inside him bit by bit, little push-pull thrusts until David finds he’s able to relax that bit more and Michael sinks inside him fully with a groan.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Michael says prayerfully. “Oh, David, you’re doing so well.”

Michael resettles his weight on his knees and sets about fucking him properly then. The dull, aching stretch David feels is quickly overwhelmed by the delicious, slick pull of his cock.

It’s not like David hasn’t been fucked before: fingers, toys, the occasional strap. It’s never been quite like this though, rough and animalistic in a way he’s never let himself have before.

“Yes,” David murmurs, wild for it. “Fuck, yes.”

Michael makes an agonised, desperate sort of sound, pounding into him harder.

It’s intense in a way he’s never experienced, and way beyond just the feeling of Michael inside him. The way his hands and knees bear the friction of being fucked so roughly on the carpet, never having made it to the bed. The sound of skin on skin, Michael’s balls heavy against him, the slap of their thighs meeting all toe-curlingly filthy in the otherwise silent room.

Michael grips at him tighter, giving him a few good, hard thrusts before changing the angle and fucking down into him even deeper than before.

“Oh _God_,” David says, fingers curling into the carpet. He shudders, arching his back as Michael’s cock rubs inside him with perfect accuracy, knees sliding further apart.

“There, sweetheart?” Michael breathes. “Is that where you need it?” He holds the back of David’s t-shirt twisted up in his fist for leverage as he keeps at him in that same brutal rhythm, hauling David back to meet each viciously satisfying thrust. “So good, aren’t you?” Michael says, somehow soft-uttered and tender despite the working of his hips being anything but. “Absolutely perfect, you are.”

David would get down right onto the floor if he could. Just lay himself out for Michael to have at him however he likes, utterly pliant and entirely Michael’s for the taking. He can feel his orgasm getting closer though, and doubts Michael is far off either.

“There,” David pants, “like that, fuck.”

If they’d been on the bed, he half-imagines Michael would have fucked him right through the mattress to the floor beneath at this point. David braces himself on one hand, getting the other beneath himself to pull over his cock in a jolting rhythm. He shivers as his cupped palm rubs over the slippery-wet head, running his fingers along the shaft as the feeling builds and builds to the point of no return.

He comes gasping, chest heaving, his arm giving out and forcing him down onto his elbow. Michael fucks him through it, groaning as David tightens around him. The feeling is drawn out and out even after the first few throbbing spurts, cock still weakly pulsing like Michael’s fucking the come right out of him. Even once he has nothing left to spill, his entire body is shivery with aftershocks.

“Gorgeous. Fuck, you feel so good,” Michael says. His voice is thick with arousal, accent deepening. He slows down slightly, shifts to long, achingly deep thrusts David can barely handle. “Let me come in you, _cariad_. Please. Please.”

Even if David hadn’t already been wanting him to do so with a frantic sort of need, he imagines he could be easily swayed by Michael’s sweet and gentle pleading.

“Yes,” David says, flushed hot all over, still riding the high of having come. “Do it, God, I want you to.”

The sound Michael makes is far more arousing than it has any right to be.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, the drag of his cock putting David on the edge of whimpering with overstimulation. “_Cariad_. So good for me. Look at you.”

Michael comes saying David’s name, desperate and disbelieving. Runs his hands over David’s hips and thighs as he presses close and spills in him with shallow, rolling thrusts. David turns his head to muffle a whine against his arm at the thought of it; the filthy flex of Michael’s cock inside him and the come he’s fucking deep inside.

After, Michael stays inside him a little while, hands gentle and breathing slowing before finally slipping out.

“Mmf,” David says, or something close to it, flopping over onto his back on the carpet. Michael goes down alongside him, shoulder to shoulder in stunned silence.

“Oh my fucking God,” Michael says, the smile evident in his voice.

David can’t help but start laughing, thoughts hazy and body relaxed for having come so hard, amused by the ridiculousness of it all.

“Yes,” David says. “Absolutely.”

Michael turns to him curiously as if struck by a sudden thought. “Your poor hands,” he says, half-smiling, taking them in his own and examining the burns where they’d rubbed against the carpet. “I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t look particularly sorry, judging by the good-humoured twinkle in his eye, but he lifts each to his mouth in turn to place a kiss there. “Oh, and your knees as well,” he says, stroking his hands over them through thin-worn fabric and looking at him with affection. “Sweetheart. I got a bit rough with you, didn’t I? But I think you liked it.”

David pulls him down gently to press their mouths together, hoping it’ll convey his overwhelmingly positive thoughts on the whole thing.

“Come on now, up you get,” Michael says after a while spent lazily kissing and luxuriating in the post-orgasmic bliss of it. “I don’t know about you, but it’ll be murder on my back if I stay here on the floor much longer.”

“Oh, your _back_,” David says. “I might not be able to sit down tomorrow, I’ll have you know.”

Michael starts laughing again. Presses a thoughtful kiss to David’s mouth and another to his forehead, making David’s stomach flutter in a way that’s more than a bit ridiculous.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Michael asks him, not quite meeting his eye. “We don’t — the offer’s there if you want it. Got a big bed. Gets a bit lonely sometimes.”

“Suppose so. Yeah, sounds good,” David says before he can second-guess himself. He’s still not sure what this is or where it’s going, but right now Michael wants him to stay and David very much wants that too. Fuck the rest, for tonight. “Are you showering first? Or am I?”

“Reckon we can both fit, if we try hard enough,” Michael says, his smile quietly pleased.

“Ah,” David says, accepting Michael’s outstretched hand to pull him up from the floor. “Can’t really say no to that kind of offer, can I?”

**Author's Note:**

> Generally speaking, the blame for this nonsense rests entirely with Michael 'He's My Lover' Sheen and David 'Should've Married Michael Sheen' Tennant. And a little bit with me. Okay, a lot with me.
> 
> I'm taking a step back from the RPF for a little bit to focus on my many Good Omens WIPs, but there may be more at some point! We shall see... :)


End file.
